Ghosts of the Past Live On
by Shego2Drakken
Summary: One night, Basil makes a strange discovery about why he has been acting so peculiar, something to do with a man he thought had been dead...
1. He Lives In You Literally

AN: I know that I should be working on other fan fiction, but this was an opportunity too worthy to pass up... The evil plot bunny has struck! Again...

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Basil sat on his bed, lit by the fading blood red sunset. He was bored by the stillness of the hotel. No mysteries to solve, no riddles to amuse himself with... If he wasn't here for his sanity, he would have left a _long_ time ago.

It seemed not too long ago that he had helped solve the Flaversham case, and had prevented the queen's death, not to mention Ratigan's ill-gotten ascension to the throne.

But it also seemed not too long ago that he had started acting more peculiar than usual.

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It started when he had inadvertently snapped at Dawson after a simple blunder during the case.

The next incident happened when he became temporarily violent with a thug who merely insulted him.

Those incidents led to others, which Basil barely managed to hide from the public, but not Dawson, nor Mrs. Judson. At first, they thought nothing of it, but Dawson eventually linked it to post-traumatic stress caused by the battle atop Big Ben with the Professor-.

Basil's eyes narrowed at the thought of his possibly-deceased arch-foe. He realized there was the possibility that Ratigan could be alive for one reason:

There was no body.

At all.

The police insisted that it washed out to sea or was on some trash scow, but Basil couldn't shake the nagging feeling that the Professor was still among them all, somewhere close by...

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Basil sighed. The sun was almost set, excepting a few beams of light. He lay back on the bed. Was Dawson right?

Was he really cracking up?

"Poor, pathetic Basil of Baker Street... So terrified, so fearful... It's a pity I ended up with you as my host."

Basil sat straight up, eyes widened to their fullest. He knew that voice. "Ratigan?", he asked, voice hoarse.

"Brilliant deduction, Sherlock", the voice said dryly. Basil gasped, for the voice seemed to echo inside the detective's very skull.

"No..." Basil rasped. "But how...?"

"Oh, don't worry, my dear rival, I will be with you soon. _Very_ soon."

"'Dear rival'", Basil started to say sarcastically. "No 'second-rate detective qui-**_AGH_**!!!"

Basil barely managed to silence himself as unbearable pain started to rack his form. Whether it was seizures or something else, he had started having them recently, especially ever since he came here, away from Dawson and Mrs. Judson. Why? He didn't know, and he personally felt like he wasn't ready to know.

"God above!", Basil hissed, fearing what would happen if he raised his voice. "What's happening to me?! This pain..."

It felt like he was being split open from the inside, and something was being pulled out from within him. Something **big**. It happened every night. The seizures would occur, he would pass out from the pain, and would wake up the next morning (surprisingly) safe in bed, like it was just a nightmare.

But he was ready this time. Whatever happened when the pain ended (if it actually did), he would find out what.

"Believe me, Basil, it's natural", "Ratigan" said calmly. "You'll find out why soon enough..."

Some wind howled in his ears as the pain grew to a crescendo, and then...

It stopped.

Basil slumped onto the floor, glad for this reprieve, but ready in case something happened. But all was still. The winds he heard was no longer there. Neither was Ratigan's voice. Eventually, his breathing settled down, and he assessed the situation.

It was dark, and the moon was the only light there, for the lamp had mysteriously gone out. "_Well, **that** was helpful_", Basil thought sarcastically.

"No", Ratigan's voice said again, only, this time, it seemed to come... from somewhwere in the room!

His already fading doubt was replaced by fear as a familiar form appeared on his knees in his range of vision.

He didn't need the gloved hands gently lifting his limp form so he was on his knees himself, facing the grinning man in the shadows...

He didn't need to see the eyes, glowing in the darkness like twin moons...

He didn't need to hear the voice say "Well, you wanted to know whether I was alive or not..."

Ratigan was alive.

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**_Tsuzuku..._**

Yes, the evil plot bunny has indeed struck again... Anyway, what'cha think?


	2. One Has Become Two

AN: Yes, another chapter update of Ghosts of the Past Live On. I figure I'll update "James Bond? Not Likely" next.

Anyway, thanks for the reviews!

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Basil was shocked. "But how...? Why..? Are you...?"

Ratigan laughed curtly. "Are you always this articulate?", he inquired, amused. "Or are you just pleased to see me?"

"Don't use that tone with me, Ratigan", Basil snapped, standing up, ready to fight if necessary. "You know I could have you arrested in under a minute."

"But what happens come sunrise, eh?"

"What do you mean 'come sunrise'?", Basil asked suspiciously.

"Hmph. Some detective _you_ are. I thought it was obvious by now."

"But how?" Basil was now confused to no end.

Ratigan's eyes narrowed. "I don't know how, but somehow I think we've been merged into one single person. When the sun goes down, we apparently separate, though we are still one person, but, with the sunrise, we merge again. So, in theory, all attempts to capture me in this state would be next to impossible, because I would be gone within hours of my capture."

"No..." The room started to spin, and he threatened to fall backwards. Suddenly, he was caught by a pair of strong arms, and he found himself being sat down on the bed. In that instant Ratigan had darted over to Basil, catching him before he even started to tip over.

"I suggest you'd better sit down if you feel so faint", Ratigan said in the same, mildly emotionless voice.

"There's just one thing I don't understand", Basil muttered, rubbing his forehead. "How?"

"'How' what?" Ratigan asked, amused.

"How have you been surviving? Oh..."

"Ah, so you've figured _this_ one out. Apparently we have a symbiotic relationship occuring... Or, rather, parasitic, considering your opinion of me. Only this one, I suspect, is made by forces not known to mousedom or mankind."

"Oh, really?", Basil asked, sarcastically. "I didn't know..."

"And don't think of trying anything, Basil", Ratigan said sternly. "Apparently the connection between us allows me a window into your mind, and visa versa, though I doubt the latter."

"What do you mean, 'I doubt the latter'?", Basil asked sharply.

"Well, dear boy, I have had time to practice seeing into your conscious and subconscious, while, up until a week at the most, you were completely unaware of my presence."

"I don't believe this. It-"

"Can't be happening?", Ratigan finished, smirking. "Believe me, it is happening.

"All this time...", Basil muttered, all too aware of what happened as he sat, staring blankly ahead. "All this time I thought I outwitted you, but you still had the last laugh."

If Basil had glanced up at that moment, he would have seen a flicker of doubt and guilt in the Professor's face. "Basil, you know me. Do you really think I _wanted_ this? Personally I would have been looking for a way to fix this myself, except..."

"Except for the whole 'disappearing at sunrise' problem?", Basil finished flatly.

"Exactly. As much as I'd prefer working alone, I'm stuck."

"So it's all business to you...", Basil said, half amused, half annoyed. "That _does_ seem like you..."

"Exactly. So I suggest we start soon, and hopefully, things will be able to get back to normal. Or, at least as normal as it was before..."

Basil sighed. This couldn't get any worse.

**_Tsuzuku..._**

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Another chapter done. Of course, knowing the way life turns out, you know it won't be easy. Otherwise, it wouldn't be much of a story, now would it?


	3. Plans and Plot Twists

AN: I'm updating this fic, too! By the way, when something is in italics, it refers to when one is speaking into the other's mind.  
  
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Basil woke up in time to see Ratigan vanish like an illusion. He sighed and laid his head back against the pillow. "This is going to take a _lot_ of getting used to."

_Believe it, Basil._

Basil sighed. "And no poking inside my mind, Ratigan."

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Imagine, if you will, a place where time exists, but doesn't exist.

A place where something exists, yet does not exist.

Imagine, if you will, the mental plane.

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Ratigan sat cross-legged, mediating on what to do. He had gotten the detective's attention well enough, but now there was the task of keeping track of the detective. There was very little knowing what he was capable of, and Ratigan wasn't willing to risk that.

Standing up, he took the moment to glance at his surroundings. He was surrounded by vast, unending flatland, the sky clouded over and gray. Yet there appeared to be something in the distance. It was almost a well-earned piece of blissful happiness, but the fact that he was there against his will made it seem almost the most dangerous place on earth.

He rubbed his forehead in annoyance. Whoever did this would pay.

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Basil sighed. It was almost sunset again, and he was trying to prepare for what he knew would happen.

"**_AGH_**!" Basil clamped his mouth shut, struggling to not scream. It would be a fine thing to have the people here discover that he was secretly associated with the World's Greatest Criminal Mind.

About a minute of pain later, he fell backwards onto the bed, his painful ordeal finally over. He gently shook his head as he felt the gloved hand on his forehead.

"Yes", Ratigan voice softly pronounced in dry tones. "He's still alive."

"Oh, ha, ha, ha", Basil muttered sarcastically, managing to sit up as Ratigan silently chuckled. "Don't let the fact that I'm somehow merged with my own worst enemy get in the way of your personal entertainment."

"Fine", Ratigan said, calming down as sat next to Basil. "So, what's the plan?"

Basil sighed. "Before we do anything, here are some thing we should remember: Number one: If we are to make it through this... 'incident', we are going to have to put everything that's happened between us in the past... for now. Understood?"

"Clearly. So this means no mention of previous defeats, or of-"

But Basil held up his hand and Ratigan stopped, silenced. "_Well_", he thought, "_someone's still a little sensitive... I can't blame him, though._"

Basil cleared his throat and continued. "As I was saying... Secondly, you must stay hidden no matter what. The world thinks you are either dead or planning something in retaliation to the whole Flaversham affair, and you being seen would prove these theories true. Not to mention that if you are seen with me, God knows what could happen..."

"So it's all appearances to you", Ratigan said mockingly as he strode over to the window. "Hypocrite much?"

Basil's eyes narrowed at the barb, but, as he did, he saw something glint outside. "Get down!"

Basil barely managed to shove Ratigan to the ground before the shot was fired, putting a bullet hole in the wall. Ratigan looked up, rubbing his head as Basil dashed over to the window. "It would be ironic", he muttered, "that we'd be given a room on the ground floor. Perfect for an assassin to take a person out."

"Stay here, and keep out of sight", Basil hissed as he climbed out the window, dashing off in the direction of where the marksman was hidden.

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Ratigan sat on the bed, cross-legged as he had done in the mental plane. After locking the door, he sat down, intending to gain the mental contact with Basil.

_Anybody there, Basil?_

_...Ratigan?_

_No, it's the king of Spain. **Of course it's me**!_

_I thought I told you to not invade my mind! _At this, Ratigan was certain he could almost see Basil flushed with anger. But Basil had been right earlier; this was no time for humor.

_Never mind that! Did you find anyone?_

_No... Whoever it was has vanished._

_Hm... You don't suppose..._

_Suppose what?_

_That it was one of my henchmen?_

_Doubtful. Most of them think you're dead, and I doubt most of them will readily turn to assassination to avenge your supposed 'death'._

_However..._

_However **what**?_

_There are those who came willingly... But someone would have to be so foolhardy to attempt something like... Of course!_

_What 'Of course'?! _At this, Ratigan smiled, despite his vow to be serious. It still was amusing to keep Basil in the dark, even briefly.

_Two words, Basil: Johnny. English._

_Who...? Ah... Then this is worse than I thought... Ratigan, I'm coming back. We'll continue this when I return to the hotel room._

_Very well..._

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And so he removed the connection. "So, Mr. English", he muttered. "I was wondering when I'd meet _you_ again..."

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Well, now that's done. By the way, if you want to consider Ratigan's "or of-" as leading to a reference to "In Memory of Elizabeth and/or "The Queen of Deduction", it's your choice.

Anyway... **_PLOT TWIST_**!!!


	4. Two Plus Two Equals Four

Another chapter, another day. This has gotta be my most reviewed GMD story yet!  
  
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"Johnny English?" Basil asked incredulously the following night. They were forced to move by Mouseland Yard's efforts, and were moved to a room that was surrounded by empty quarters all around.

The detective sat in the only chair in the room, while Ratigan was crouched on the bed. The question had been a whisper, but the incredulity felt from the detective had made up for the lack of volume.

"He's working for you, too?", Basil continued.

Ratigan chuckled as he sat in a lotus position. "Who isn't?"

"Good point." The detective paused before continuing. "But who is he?"

"If you must know", Ratigan said loftily, "he was one of my lieutenants before a mistake he made during a caper moved me to demote him from his lieutenant status."

Basil laughed. "You didn't feed him to that cat of yours?"

"Hardly. You make it seem like I always do that. No", he continued, "despite that failure, he is useful to me... most of the time."

Basil raised an eyebrow as Ratigan stood and stretched for a few moments, his tail snaking out from behind him like an eel. "Ah... Ratigan?"

"What?", Ratigan asked, glancing at the detective.

"Your tail!"

"What about it?"

"It's... moving."

"Oh." Ratigan glanced at the tail, which appeared to turn and stare pointedly back at him. "I wouldn't worry. It's been doing that ever since we merged. Useful, really." The tail agreed with this point by swiping the magnifying glass from the bedside table, holding it out to Basil.

"Amazing", Basil muttered, taking it from the Professor. "It appears that whatever merged us altered your physical structure." He paused, letting this thought hang in the air. If the strange force had altered Ratigan this way, who knew how it could have affected him?

"Don't fret so much, Basil. If it's happened, you'll know... eventually."

Basil groaned. "I'm going to bed."

"Fine with me", Ratigan replied, lying down on the bed, eyes closed. "I could do with some sleep myself..."

Basil glared. "I said _I_ was going to bed. _You_, Professor, are going to stand guard, in case Mr. English shows up again."

Ratigan glanced up at the detective. "Not to sound juvenile, but make me."

Basil's eyes narrowed. There was a moment of silence, and Ratigan sighed. "_Basil can be so damn stubborn sometimes..._", he thought. Finally: "Fine." Ratigan stood up. "I'm going."

"Good."

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Ratigan sighed as he sat slumped in the chair Basil had occupied. Almost two hours had passed, and nothing had happened. Silent as the grave...

_Snap!_

Or not. Ratigan slowly stood, making sure not to wake Basil. If he wanted the Professor to keep watch, that's what he would get... He opened the window shutter carefully, then stepped outside, thankful they were still on the ground floor.

_Snap!_

"Damn you, Bough!" a voice hissed. "Now someone knows we're out here!"

"Ah, sir?" another voice replied, "That was you."

The voices were coming from the nearby bush! Ratigan crouched... and pounced!

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Seconds later, Ratigan found himself threatening-"Well, well, well. Johnny English."

The rat with the thinning black hair winced. "Go ahead, slice me. It will be the last thing you do."

Ratigan looked up to see the gun shakily pointed at him by the rat in the tweed coat. "Bough", he growled, "put the gun down."

Bough did so, eyes widening. "...Professor?"

Johnny English cautiously cracked open his left eye. "Eh?", he asked, fearful. "Ah, James-"

"Spare me the niceties, English. I know what you've been up to."

"You know about Kochanski?"

"Who?"

"Never mind. No Kochanski."

Ratigan stood up, glancing at Bough, who shrugged. "You don't want to know, Professor."

"I won't inquire, thank you." He turned on the now-standing English, five-alarm glare at full power. "I was referring to your assassination attempt on the detective."

"But I-" He paused. "How did you know?"

Ratigan's eyes narrowed. "I was _there_."

"What were you doing with the detective?" Bough asked.

"Never mind. I'll explain tomorrow night." Ratigan sighed. "Just check into the rooms next to the detective's. Before the sun sets tomorrow, go to the detective's room. I'll explain it from there... I hope."

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Basil sighed as he fell back onto the bed. Another day, another lack of information. They had been delayed twice already, and the detective had already grown sick of the time wasted.

He casually glanced up at the rat staring intently at him. "Do you constantly have to stare at me like that?"

English sat back in the only chair there. "If I knew that you didn't want me to stare, I would've come a little later."

Basil resisted the urge to snarl. At least it would be over soon enough...

"Believe me, Mr. English, if _I_ wanted any smart remarks, I would have asked for them from-"

Sunset.

"_**AGH!**_"

Bough stood straight up. The detective had started to go into fitful spasms the minute the sun had set. And what was that glow that he was starting to emanate...?

Finally, Basil went limp, trembling in pain, but barely conscious.

"Well", Ratigan said calmly, standing next to the bed. "You _did_ want to know."

"Oh, my God. Did you see-?!"

**_Thud!_**

"Um... sir?", Bough asked softly.

**_Tsuzuku..._**

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Well, that's another chapter done...


	5. The Inscrutable Mind of the Enemy

Ah, yes, I've finally updated this story. It's been so long...

Disclaimer: I own no one except Johnny English and Bough. Ratigan and Basil belong to Eve Titus and Disney. Mr. Scratch and Erasmus Craven belong respectively to whoever made _The Story of Mankind_ and _The Raven_.

"You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view . . . until you climb into his skin and walk around in it." -Atticus Finch; To Kill A Mockingbird

* * *

"Very well, gentlemen. Let's get to business." 

"Fine", Bough said nonchalantly.

"Just one question", Ratigan interrupted. "Why did you have to tie Basil up?"

"Insurance."

"...'Insurance'?", Ratigan inquired doubtfully. "Listen, English. Basil isn't going to turn me in. Not if he wants to be locked up himself, either alongside me, or just for making what they would consider an insane claim."

"But how can you be sure?"

"I don't know. But Basil's a mouse of his word. He won't talk."

English sighed, but relented. "Fine. I'll remove the gag."

He did as he said, and Basil shook his head briefly after it was removed.

Ratigan sighed, blushing. "Sorry", he whispered discreetly to the detective.

"I can see why you demoted him", Basil muttered in reply.

"Anyway!", Ratigan interjected, turning to English. "Where exactly were you?"

"Oh. Well, ah, you see..."

_Idiot alert_, Ratigan thought-spoke to Basil.

_Ditto._

"...Bough?"

"Ah." Bough cleared his throat. "Well, it all started when..."

* * *

Quite a few hours of roundabout explaining later... 

"And that's how we ended up here. Now", Bough continued, "we told you what happened to us. Now tell us what got you into this mess."

"Ah", Ratigan said faintly, his brain coming back to reality. The sun would be rising soon, and he'd have to make his explanation brief, unlike Bough's. "Well, to make this story a lot shorter than Bough's-"-At this, the rodent in question turned his attention to an invisible something on the wall-"somehow Basil and I were merged into one being, this strange alchemy apparently having been caused by my fall from Big Ben in some way-"

"Speaking of which", English interjected, "where _is_ the detective?"

Ratigan gasped, looking in the direction of where said detective was sitting. Make that _had sat!_

All that was in Basil's place were the ropes that English had tied him up with.

"Where's Basil!", he hissed.

"Escaped?", English suggested, shrugging.

But Ratigan placed a now-gloveless hand on the bed. "...Still warm... So, no. He didn't." The Professor's eyes widened as he realized what that could mean. "But... if he didn't escape...", he slowly said, running the possibility through his brain.

It couldn't be.

It wasn't possible.

But...

_...Ratigan?_

_ ...Basil? Where are you!_

_ ...I don't know..._

Ratigan growled. "Gentlemen, I belive we have a problem."

* * *

Basil found himself lying on his back, his arms spread-eagled away from him. The ropes that were binding him before were gone. So were Ratigan and the others. 

The mouse sat straight up, expecting to see the hotel room he _was_ in, but was surprised to find himself in a strange jungle environment. Light flickered down through the foliage, creating strange patterns on the ground and plants.

Basil looked around in increasing horror at his surroundings. "Where... where am I?"

_Basil!_

The detective raised an eyebrow. _Ratigan? Where am I!_

_I don't know..._

* * *

In the real world, Ratigan was busy examining the rope that had held his arch-foe. It seemed normal enough... but his fears were realized when it transformed into a long strand of- 

"Ivy." Ratigan frowned, turning to Bough. "Where did you find this... rope?"

"Outside, sir."

"You mean it was just lying there?"

"Well, I wouldn't have used it if it could do this!" A pause, then- "Speaking of which..."

"No", Ratigan interjected, "I don't know how simple ivy could have caused this. Of course, this is merely viewing the situation from a scientific point of view. But if it is viewed from a supernaturalist's point of view..."

"What?", English scoffed. "You're not suggesting that?"

"That Basil and I were bound magically?" Ratigan chuckled darkly. "Somehow, I wouldn't be surprised."

_So..._ Basil's voice echoed in Ratigan's head, _What now?_

Ratigan mentally sighed. _There's nothing to do but wait..._

* * *

In Ratigan's subconscious, Basil groaned. _More waiting?_

_Patience, detective, patience._

_ ...You know what? You can be **really** annoying sometimes, you know that?_

No response. Basil sighed. "Now what?"

_...rrr..._

"Ugh..."

* * *

"So, Professor", English spoke up. "What are we..." 

But Ratigan had already fallen asleep.

" Ah, this is just... I mean, no one falls asleep _that_ fast!"

_**Hnnnk... ZZZZZ...**_

"...Or maybe you can..."

* * *

Everything seemed strangely perfect. A strange jungle paradise, beautiful in an exotic fashion... 

"This is all in Ratigan's mind?", Basil finally said. "It's all so... I never thought..."

The sound of a rusty gate being opened prompted him to look up. "Hm?"

_Rrr..._

"Oh no."

A lion crept through the foliage. Its body was brown, and its mane was dark gray with traces of crimson red. Strangely enough, it seemed the size a lion would be if Basil had been human.

"Oh God..."

The lion stalked closer... closer...

"Nice lion... I am _not_ your next meal..."

Basil had his arm out in front of him as if it would stop the approaching beast. But the lion came closer-

Basil winced-

The lion nuzzled its head against his hand, wanting to be petted. Basil cautiously patted the lion's mane, and the lion purred. Any thoughts of the beast killing him stymied, Basil kneeled, scratching the lion behind the ears.

"So... you're a lion...", Basil said to no one in particular, still slightly amazed. "Of course, you may be a hallucinogenic flashback, but somehow I doubt it."

The lion turned and started off.

Basil cautiously took a step forward. Seeing that the lion didn't reproach him, he kept following. "_I just hope you actually lead me somewhere_", he muttered.

* * *

A minute or so later... 

"_So_", Basil stated finally, "it's a big... tarp... screen... thing..."

"I see you've discovered the memory theater."

Basil glanced up sharply at the strange human. "Who are you?"

"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Mr. Scratch, though I am more commonly known as-"

"You'll have to excuse my friend's dramatics." Another human appeared, apparently out of nowhere. "_My_ name is Erasmus Craven."

"Right..." The detective sighed. "Just out of curiousity, I haven't gone insane, have I?"

"No, fortunately. I must say, you're the first visitor to our little part of the subconscious since, well, forever." Erasmus smiled. "You're Basil of Baker Street, no doubt."

"How do you know?"

"How do we know?" Again, he smiled. "You see, this is the memory theater, where memories are replayed to a certain extent. Sometimes, my companion and I view these memories when we're not needed for our duties."

"And those duties are?", Basil asked dryly.

"Ah, yes, I was getting to that. Mr. Scratch and I are what you would refer to sometimes as Yin and Yang, the two sides of the conscious."

Basil stepped back and took it all in. Erasmus Craven wore a blue, fur-lined robe, and looked like something that stepped out of a fantasy novel. Mr. Scratch, however, looked like he would get along perfectly in London. If he were human, that is.

"Let me guess." He pointed to Mr. Scratch, then to Erasmus. "You're Ratigan's 'devil', and you're his 'angel', so to speak."

"Yes", Mr. Scratch smiled smugly. "He can be taught."

Suddenly, the sky darkened.

"What's going on?", Basil inquired.

"Ah, yes, it's starting. Maybe this one will answer any questions you might have..."

"About what?"

"'About what?', he asks", Mr. Scratch stated dryly. "Well, you probably did want to know why Ratigan isn't currently a rotting corpse at the bottom of the Thames, didn't you?"

_**Tsuzuku...**_

* * *

Coming up next chapter: Basil discovers just what happened to Ratigan that rainy night overlooking the Thames...

Same rat time, same rat network!

Ratigan: (flatly) Same bad Batman parody.


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